Struggle, my Angel
by kittyhere
Summary: For Draco Malfoy, life is a constant struggle against his father, his school, himself, and life. He's already spiralling down the path to suicide, before Ginny appears to pick up the pieces. Rated T for abuse and self harm. Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter. (sob, sob)
1. Chapter 1

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The rain is striking my skin, freezing my bones and causing icicles in my hair, but I don't move. I'm sitting in the biggest tree in our family's garden, my limbs aching from being in this position for hours. My legs are drawn against my chest, my arms wrapped around as if a safeguard. Blood no longer covers me, having been washed off with the frigid rain, but the wounds still bleed, turning the water crimson. I know I look horrible. Hogwarts students would surely laugh at me. I don't particularly care, though. I haven't since first year. Maybe sixth year will be different.

I'm freezing in this tree. I don't want to go inside, though. For inside holds father. He's furious with me. Earlier this evening, he brought home two young muggleborn girls. They were only my age, young and frightened, just as I was. They were crying and shivering, their whole aura radiating fear. My task was to kill them, as a final test on my path to become a Death Eater, as to follow in my father's footsteps. My father demonstrated the task by killing the first one quickly in front of me. I had drawn my wand, pointing it at the second girl's face. Tears streamed down her face, and she begged for mercy, sobbing into her hands. My hand had begun to shake. I had never killed anyone before. I had never planned to. But now I was expected to kill this frightened girl in front of me?

"I can't." I had whispered, dropping my wand. A hissing noise had come from between my father's teeth, and I knew what would be coming soon. A sharp cracking sound came as my head was whipped around, backhanded by my father's hand. "Can't do it?" he had asked, fury shining in his eyes. I averted looking him in the eyes. "It's easy." He had hissed. Pointing his wand at his poor prisoner, he had spoken the dreaded spell: "Avada Kedavra." I flinched back, staring at the two dead bodies that lay beside me.

My father had then turned to me. "Crucio."

And now I was outside, wounds bleeding heavily into the rain. Of course, my punishment hadn't stopped at Crucio. No, it had continued into punches and kicks, and multiple spells I never wish to know the names of. The rain pelts down on me, cleaning my skin. That's why I love the rain. It cleans off all imperfections. If only it could clean my soul.

It's not all bad though. Tomorrow I will be back to Hogwarts, to complete my sixth year. At least I'll be out of my father's grasp for a while. But something was bugging me.

Why? Why couldn't I have killed her? One simple spell, a flick of the wand, and she would be dead. Simple, really. But not. I couldn't follow Voldemort. I wouldn't be a slave. A pawn in a game of death. I couldn't _kill _people. I couldn't _torture _people. Not after how I've been raised. Not after my father tortured me for the first time when I was two.

I just couldn't. And now it's three am in the morning, and I'm still sitting in this blasted tree, just a few hours before I'm supposed to leave for school. So I force myself to go back inside, my limbs screaming in pain as I land heavily on the ground, reopening any cuts that had closed up. I get inside, to see my mother gathering up her rain coat, tears on her face and blood on her hands. I stop dead at the sight of her, truthfully. I haven't seen her all summer. She usually steers clear of me and father, preferring to drink Firewhisky alone downstairs. For a moment we just stare at each other, before she awkwardly hangs her raincoat back up, and then the silence reigns again.

My eyes glue to her bloody hands, which she hides behind her back, embarrassed. "You're father asked me to take- take the bodies away." I nod. Her voice is scratchy, and her eye twitches nervously. She's usually so well cleaned up. The image of a perfect wife and mother. In reality, she's an alcoholic who doesn't care about her only son.

I edge past her, brushing past her frail arm for a second, and feel it grasp mine, before letting go abruptly. I go on pretending I didn't feel it. I don't want to feel. I just want to be free of this curse I call a life.

"Draco." My mothers voice calls me back. I turn, confused. "I'm- I'm sorry." I raise an eyebrow. I know she's not just talking about tonight. She's talking about the time since I was two years old. I turn and walk away. I need to pack for Hogwarts. And I have no place for my mother in my heart.


	2. Slice

**Again, please review. **** It would make me sooooo happy.**

I climb tiredly onto the train, not waving back to my family (if you could call it that) as I board the train. Not that they waved in the first place, but- still. I go into the compartments, my heart lifting a little bit as I see my best friends Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco!" Pansy squeals, her voice excited. She pushes herself through thongs of other people to hug me. She breaks away embarrassedly as people laugh. I roll my eyes and greet Blaise. "How was your summer?" he asks. "Same as always." I answer. He sighs, because he, as my best friend, knows what goes on when I'm home. Pansy knows also, but is less discreet at hiding her distress. I push her off me as she gives me an emotional hug. The three of us then make our way to a compartment at the end of the train, Pansy chattering about her family's trip to Italy.

Finally, we are able to sit down just as the train lurches, signaling its start. I don't talk much, preferring, this time, to listen to my friends go on about their summers. "Dray? Are you ok?" This question comes from Blaise, who's staring worriedly at me, with Pansy who has the same expression, behind him. I force a smile on my face, but I'm pretty sure it comes out as a grimace. "Ya, I'm fine. Just tired." They're still looking at me suspiciously, but they thankfully decide to let the matter go for the moment.

In a matter of hours we arrive at the castle. We walk up the steps and pass through the large oak doors, warming up considerably upon entering the familiar castle. The three of us walk into the Great Hall, and stop short. Black banners hang from the ceiling, and the candles cast a gloomy, depressing light over the hall. All the professors wear black, and the usual festive manner of place is gone. We quietly make our way to our seats at the Slytherin table, sitting down and no longer talking.

When everyone has taken their seats, Dumbledore stands up and everyone's attention immediately turns to him. In a somber tone, he begins. "This summer, a student was taken from our midst. Beauxbeautons has also suffered a loss. Two young girls were killed by what we believe to be Death Eaters over the summer." My eyes widen, and I feel sick. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no- "Miss Selena Carter was killed just recently, and Jessica Reladas was also murdered." Dumbledore holds up a picture of the two girls. Selena Carter. The girl I was supposed to kill. A Ravenclaw. A sixth year. Killed in my house. I'm going to be sick.

Everyone in the hall starts talking in low voices, and a Ravenclaw girl bursts into tears. "That's sad." Pansy says, Blaise nodding in agreement. I force myself to nod, willing myself not to scream. Or barf. Or cry. God, my life is falling apart.

347. That's the number I'm milling over as I sit in my bed. To me, its quite a significant number. 347 days of no cutting. I can't do it. I'm suddenly out of bed, and grasping through my trunk in a sick desperation. My hand closes around the hilt of my blade, reminding me of long, painful nights. I clamber back into bed, holding my savior so tight I'm surprised it doesn't break. I sit, calmly now, pressing the blade to my wrist. I apply pressure and slide, watching the blood pool up around the cut.

That was for Selena.

The second one was for the other girl.

The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth ones were for release.

The eleventh one was for everything being my fault.

The twelfth one was for punishment.

After that, I don't count. I just allow my pain to express itself through my blade, until I'm left with a mess of blood on my sheets and calm in my heart.

Zero. That's my new number.


	3. Begin to Play with Fire

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Ginny's POV

I guess I kind of deserved everything I got. It's like what my mom always says to me: "Don't play with fire, Ginevra Weasley, or you're bound to get burnt." I mean, I wasn't even playing with fire when she said that to me, but I got the main principle. Don't mess around with dangerous things, or you'll get hurt.

So I guess when I went flying in the rain this morning, I wasn't exactly thinking about that. I mean, I thought it would be cool to pelt through the air in the rain. But all that had happened was that I had fallen and hurt my back, and now had to stay in the Hospital Wing because of it.

And its so _boring _in here! Nothing goes on, and no one else is in here to talk to me. I'm just sitting here with my stuffed dog, Lass, wishing I could get out. Don't laugh at me, I've had Lass since I was eleven. She helps the nightmares from my time of being possessed go away.

As I'm sitting here, brooding, the Hospital Wing's door crashes open, revealing a bloody Snape carrying an even bloodier Draco Malfoy. I sit up in shock. Madam Pomfrey rushes over, and has Snape set Malfoy on the bed.

"What happened?" she asks in horror as she begins to clean his wounds. "I have no idea. Blaise Zabini found him like this a while ago." Pomfrey clutched a hand to her chest, gasping as she took a good look at the offending injury. "It looks like self harm Severus." Snape sat down tiredly. Ginny was surprised, she had never seen any emotion other that mean come out of the potions master.

And Draco! Self harm? He just didn't seem the type… Anyway, why would he ever do anything like that? He had loads of money, great marks, parents who loved him…

A while later, when Draco awoke, Pomfrey bustled over to him and began reprimanding him on his habit of hurting himself. "It could very well kill you, you know. It a horrible thing to do." I felt horrible for him. A dark secret, and an emotional one at that, had just been let out, and she wasn't comforting him at all. Malfoy looked as if he was about to cry.

Once Pomfrey had left, I slipped out of my bed and gently padded over to him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of my stuffed dog and me. "Does Weasley sleep with a stuffed animal?" he asks in a mocking voice. I force a tight smile onto my face. "Yep. It really helps with feeling safe." Malfoy rolls his eyes and turns away from me. I set Lass on his head. He reaches up and grabs her. "Your stuffed animal has no idea of boundaries." He says, holding the thing above his head. I sigh. "Look, just take Lass for the night. I swear she'll make you feel better." I can almost feel him hesitating. "Fine. But only because you aren't leaving me alone otherwise." I grin, padding back over to my bed. The Great Draco Malfoy is holding my stuffed dog. How did that happen?

Draco's POV

The most bizarre thing just happened to me, and as a result of it, the Weaslette's stuffed animal is pressed up against my chest under the covers. A white bandage stretches across my left arm, but I can already see how useless it is. The bandage is already colored red.

Pomfrey comes over to check on me, and begins lecturing me. It is only when she mentions writing my parents that I snap to a horrified attention. My father would see it as a weakness. I would be severely punished for it. I involuntarily shiver under the blankets, unconsciously grabbing a tighter hold on Weasley's ridiculous stuffed animal.

"Please. Please don't write my parents." I am begging now, and later I will punish myself for it, but right now my fathers livid face is the only thing on my mind. I can see her hesitating, and I seal the coffin with the final nail. "Please, they'll be so disappointed in me, it might just push me over the top." Pity floods her face. I'm off the hook. I am, to say the least, disgusted with myself, but at least my father doesn't know. And I'll correct myself later. It's no big deal. I'm fine. Fine.

Blaise' POV

The scariest thing I've ever experienced in my life. I bet I can top yours. How about, um I don't know… Waking up to your best friend almost dead in a pool of his own blood?

Well, that's what I woke up to this morning. And now I have to sit here and listen to Pansy blubber on about it. I hug her anyway, just because it's the thing friend's do, but inside I am raging.

Its like all the teachers in this place think I'm stupid. He fell and cut himself? Yeah. Ok. I didn't see the wounds themselves, but I know you don't lose that much blood from falling out of bed. And if Draco wont tell me what happens, which I doubt he will, because if the teachers wont speak, he won't… I'll just have to find out myself. Because I'm not going to stand here and watch my friend fall away.

**Well, there's another chapter! Please, pleeaaase review and let me know what you thought. **


	4. Nightmares (Now with breakfast!)

Draco Malfoy POV

I opened my eyes blearily, letting them adjust to the darkness before turning over on my back to face the ceiling. I was still in the infirmary, and surprisingly, I had yet to dispose of the Weaslette's stupid stuffed animal.

Judging by the dark, I guessed it was around one or two in the morning. I moved again, sending a searing pain up my destroyed arm. I bit back a cry, breathing heavily and clenching my fingers around the blanket.

I was so dumb. I should have known moving would hurt. "Stupid." I muttered. "Worthless, dumb, bad unwanted, ugly…" I closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep, and ignoring the stuffed animal at my side.

Ginny POV

_Serpent heads rise up around her. A handsome boy appears, beckoning her closer with blood stained hands. Ginny unwillingly walks closer, her breath raspy and terrified. The boy grabs her and begins to shake her. "I know all your secrets, Ginny Weasley." Ginny screamed, watching as her mouth began to drip blood and Hermione appeared dead before her. "Look what you did. You killed her. You controlled that snake. You did this." The boy states coldly, his lips forming into a smile as Ginny chokes on her sobs. "No- no… HERMIONE!"_

My eyes fly open, and I begin to shake with tears as I remember my dream. I instinctively try to grab Lass, but find she isn't with me. I groan, glancing over at Malfoy's bed, where I can just see Lass' yellow head poking out of the side. I count to ten, a calming technique my mum taught me. I grasp the whit sheets, reminding myself I didn't kill anyone. No one died, I remind myself.

But someone could have.

Pansy Parkinson POV

Me and Blaise sit anxiously at the Slytherin table, awaiting Draco to be released from the hospital wing. He's supposed to return to classes today. Blaise plays with his food, and I, a nervous eater, shovel forkful after forkful of food into my mouth, barely tasting anything. I doubt I even know what I'm eating. I jump up as I see his blond hair, squeezing Blaise' arm so hard I probably left marks. Blaise jumps up, a hard look on his face. I know he doesn't believe Draco fell out of bed. I mean, neither do I, (I'm not that daft.) but know is not the time to confront him about it. "Blaise." I hiss. "Don't do this now. He just got out. C'mon. Please?" My voice has turned pleading, and I force tears in my eyes. Blaise rolls his eyes, but I know I have won when he sits down and returns to picking at his food. Well actually, it smore like stabbing now.

"Hey!" I say nervously as he walks up and sits down. "Hey." He answers, sounding tired. He grabs a slice of toast and puts in on his plate. "That's all your having?" I ask dubiously. He's always been a big eater. He shrugs, glancing over at the Gryffindor Table. I narrow my eyes, but let it pass. I'm more concerned on his not starving.

I shovel food onto his plate, and wait in strained silence as he slowly begins to eat. Blaise' eyes are on the bandage around Draco's wrist, and I know I'll have to watch him all day to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

Fun.


End file.
